


Five Years Later

by DialandyouShallReceive



Category: The Killing
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Relationship(s), Seattle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:56:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6938632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DialandyouShallReceive/pseuds/DialandyouShallReceive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friendship/relationship work about the two best former detectives in Seattle. There will probably be smut. This is a work in progress and my first fic. Major SPOILERS through the entire series, and set at the end of the show finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Years Later

"I'm sorry. I should have known you were the one person who always stays. You were my best friend."

Stephen Holder had been staring into her wide, blue eyes, the very pair he'd dreamt of seeing for five years, and his heartbeat sped up. Linden. She was his best friend. If anything, five years apart had only strengthened their peculiar bond. So damn much had been overhauled since their partnership at SPD, but the way she looked up at him, the very slight smile tugging at her lips, it took him right back to that stupid, smoky car.

"Why don't you stay?" he asked. "Stay." His voice was quiet. He didn't recognize himself. 

Linden's gaze shifted, looking through his shoulder, her brow furrowed.

"I think that this city is a city of the dead for me," Linden explained.

"It's about perception, ain't it? Close your eyes," he told her.

"No! You're so weird," and a toothy laugh transformed Linden's face. 

"Just close your eyes, give it a try, and maybe you'll see what's really there," he asked, almost pleading. "It's standing right in front of you. It ain't ghosts, Linden. It ain't the dead"

Their eyes locked, until Linden made some excuse about a ticket, and began walking away.

"Linden."

She turned. There was something there, a feeling that dredged up the night Bullet died, when Holder had come a breath away from kissing her. And immediately, he knew.

There was no way she was staying. 

He could reason or beg all he wanted, but it would only be wasted breath and empty air. She had decided, and he knew better. 

"Bye."

Their relationship was built on bad jokes, cigarettes, and police work. Physical touch was practically alien, but before he even fully comprehended it, he was launching himself around her. She rocked backwards, gracefully catching him, and cradling his neck while he squeezed her tiny frame.

Linden had broken away before his brain had begun to process she had ever been there. Again, she was gone, rolling in her white hatchback through the trickle of rain that was always fucking falling.

***

Holder shuffled through the next couple of hours of his Narcotics Anonymous meeting. He sat on his folding chair in the shelter, surrounded by the youth in his car.

Since leaving SPD, an old NA friend had given his name to the Seattle organization, and he had worked for four years with youth struggling with addiction. He ran meetings, giving a different perspective and set of opinions from previous leaders. He'd created strong and unwavering friendships with his youth, his "crew," going so far as to confront dealers with them, or letting them crash at his dojo. 

A few of the kids reminded him of Rosie or Bullet. A knowing smile or a snarky comment, and his mind would wander to his cases, his police life. In those moments, he'd catch himself missing his former partner.

Still, his life was full. He was a daddy now, and his beautiful Kalia made it even easier not to use. He was five years sober, not having touched anything since being on the force. When he'd split with Caroline, he'd come damn close, but holding his baby girl and feeling her breathe in his arms had spared him. 

But now, fuck it. He wasn't afraid of using, but fuck, if his mind wasn't filled with Sarah Linden in her long coat and blue scarf. The part of his life he'd pretty much written off twice was back in his head. Her ten-minute visit had derailed him and getting back on track was going to be a bitch.

"Yo, Hold, what's on your hand, man?" snorted Ella. She had long, dyed red hair, and a thick rim of eyeliner brightening her green eyes, and she was laughing at him. "Where didja go, Hold?"

"What?" Holder realized he was looking down at his hands, instead of listening to her latest anecdote. "Sorry, Ella, I spaced hardcore. Gonna grab some coffee, but keep tellin' your story."

He walked over to the carafe in the corner, and Ella described all of her former roommates, making jokes about their habits, and talking about her third month of sobriety since moving out. He'd spaced out during a positive story, but this was the first time he hadn't been completely present at NA. He normally preached mindfulness to his crew, and would partake in yoga, but damn, Linden had really thrown him for a loop. 

Fuck, he was riding a memory rollercoaster.

He struggled through the remainder of meeting, giving high fives and hugs to the crew. After stacking the folding chairs, they all left, and he walked slowly to the door. With each step, he remembered the Larsen case, and Rosie's body being found in a submerged car trunk. He remembered destroying Linden's trust with false evidence. He remembered all of the girls fucking Skinner had killed, and the way things had settled . He felt heavy with Linden gone.

As he locked the door, he tried to push the thoughts away with the promise of Chinese food and Project Runway. He turned, walked down the center's stairs, and --

There was Linden.

***

Sarah Linden couldn't claim to be a person who made plans of any variety. Her dinners were mostly from vending machines or convenience store coffee, she still spent most of her nights in crappy hotels, and her last car had broken down from constant use and long miles.

Still, she had planned on leaving, on not giving Seattle any more than a second's thought. She wanted to see Regi; people visit their moms, right? Regi had given her Holder's work address with a knowing eyebrow raise. Linden thanked her for it, but had already decided it would be too much.

And then she'd driven there, as if Holder's lanky arms were pulling the car towards the NA building. She'd parked, but turned the ignition on a few times, until she left the car, and sat for a good half hour on a planter near the stairs.

Holder had walked down the stairs, his lanky body bobbing until he saw her. The smile he'd given her had hurt her: why the hell had she decided to come and hurt him, too? 

His hug had nearly changed her mind right then and there, but she'd walked quickly back to her car and driven off, seeing Holder's tall frame in her rearview mirror.

Linden drove through the rain, and again, found her mind wandering. She found herself near the Wapi Casino. She left the car, walking towards the skyscrapers in the distance.

It all became so clear. She'd lived in her car, cycling through nearly each continental state except Washington. She was running on habit, running away, like she did as a foster kid. But Holder was no shitty foster family. She hadn't exaggerated: he was her best friend.

She got in the car headed towards the city.

***  
As Linden climbed out of the car, she couldn't stop the smile she felt on her mouth. Holder sidled up to her, an equally big grin on his handsome face.

"Hi."

Linden stood there, hands deep in her pockets, the big smile lighting her face. 

"Hi, Holder."

"So, I thought you was gone."

"So did I."

"What changed your mind, 1-900?"

"Well, I was running low on gas," she laughed, "and I guess I forgot how to get back to the Hi-Lite Hotel off the interstate."

Holder laughed, too. The laughter lapsed into silence. 

If anyone had been walking past, they would have seen a good-looking, lanky man smiling at an equally happy and tiny woman with striking eyes. They would have wondered why they were smiling so large and why they kept giggling like kids.

"Well, that hotel ain't happening. You're coming to the dojo and we're eating takeout."


End file.
